


yes, we're going to a party party

by estrella30



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Party, Birthday Sex, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:57:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s my <i>birthday</i>!” Harry fistpumps and shouts for possibly the five hundredth time that evening. Nick chuckles and rolls his eyes fondly. Nick’s hardly sober but Harry is <i>trashed</i>. He’s absolutely adorable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	yes, we're going to a party party

**Author's Note:**

> I saw all the billion pictures of Harry and Nick at Harry's party last weekend and couldn't resist. Please excuse any timeline inaccuracies, I definitely tried my best lol.
> 
> thanks to mediaville for the beta and sali_mali for the britpick! you ladies are fantastic!!
> 
> any remaining mistakes are my own. title taken from Birthday by The Beatles because why not :D

*

Nick pushes open the door to the bar and pulls Harry close the minute the cold outside air hits them. Harry shivers and clutches Nick’s arm and Nick tries to smile and weave his way past the paparazzi lined up and blocking the line of cars waiting to take them all home. 

“It’s my _birthday_!” Harry fistpumps and shouts for possibly the five hundredth time that evening. Nick chuckles and rolls his eyes fondly. Nick’s hardly sober but Harry is _trashed_. He’s absolutely adorable. 

“I do know that, rockstar,” Nick blinks at the flash of cameras and tilts Harry’s head down so he can try and avoid them as best possible. “I’m fairly sure the thousand people trying to get a picture of you in that horrid shirt know as well.”

“Heyyyy,” Harry pouts. When he looks up his eyes are droopy and sad. “This was my present from…somebody I think. Burberry or summat; it’s high fashion,” Harry blinks slowly. His words are slurred and thick, even slower than usual. He licks his lips and says, “Anyway, least they gave me a _real_ present whoever they were and not a bloody _stripper_.”

“Now now,” Nick clucks. He spots Harry’s handlers waving them over to a sleek black car and steers them in that direction. “Officer Millie was a _fantastic_ gift; don’t even try and pretend.”

Harry grunts and flails his hands around drunkenly in the air. They’re close enough now that Nick has to duck away, slide into the car and wait for Harry to take a few pictures before climbing inside but the minute he drops Harry’s hand Harry’s careening off back into the crowd. Nick hears the bodyguards shouting and the hysterical screech of the paparazzi and fans gathered around but there’s not much he can do now that he’s already tucked into the back of the car.

“Dammit,” Nick grumbles as he pulls out his mobile to text Aimee. _where are you?? Go find harry and make sure he’s all right I’m already in the car_. He cranes his neck and tries to see out the window but all he can spot is Harry’s shadow looming close to the door and then jumping away again time after time as he avoids his security team. Nick’s going to kill him.

“I’ve got him, Nick!” Aimee’s voice cuts through the din outside the car and then finally Harry’s being shoved into the backseat, the meaty hand of one of his bodyguards curled around the top of Harry’s head. He sprawls into the car, a flail of drunk, loose limbs and Nick pulls him down next to him. Aimee climbs in last and pulls the door firmly shut behind her. 

“You all right, love?” She puts her hand on Harry’s knee and squeezes gently. 

Harry nods, his head ducked down and hair covering the front of his face. “’M’good,” Harry mumbles into his hand and coughs. “Great. It was a great party, Nick,” he says, looking up and blinking at Nick sleepily. “Thank you so much.”

Nick wants so kiss Harry so badly – has wanted to all night, really – and now that they’re relatively alone he finally gives in. He shoots a quick glance at Aimee hoping she can read the _sorry, I’m about to snog my boyfriend senseless_ look in his eyes, and she just waves her hand at him, pulling out her mobile and texting away on the screen as the car drives away from the curb and Nick threads his fingers into Harry’s hair and pulls him in for a kiss. 

Harry hums happily against Nick’s mouth and touches Nick’s face with cool fingers. Harry’s lips are warm and wet and he tastes sweet like the champagne he was drinking all night. Nick makes himself pull away quicker than he would like because as much as Aimee is trying her best to ignore them they do have an audience. Instead of being grumpy about it Harry beams up at Nick when they separate. 

“Yay, birthday kisses,” he says happily. Nick laughs and curls his arm around Harry’s shoulder as the car bumps along the road in the dark on the way back to Nick’s flat.

*

It’s not a big party at Nick’s after the night out, just a few of their closer friends and the hardcore partiers who refuse to believe three in the morning is an acceptable time for a birthday celebration to end. Nick had anticipated this ahead of time and has a fridge stocked full of wine and champagne and had covered his kitchen counter with bags of crisps before he and Aimee left for the party earlier in the night. 

Finchy’s got the music set up in the living room and Aimee and Pix are leading some ridiculous singalong from the top of Nick’s coffee table, arms linked around each other as they sway drunkenly. Niall looks near to passed out on Nick’s floor in front of the telly, not even trying to shove Harry off where he’s perched on Niall’s lap and sticking crisps in his hair. Nick’s leaning in the doorway to his kitchen just watching everyone for a minute when Harry looks up and catches his eye, his face breaking into a wide grin. 

“It’s my _birthday_ ,” Harry shouts. Nick watches Niall reach up and cover Harry’s face with his hand and then wrestle him to the ground. Nick would go help Harry out, but it’s actually kind of funny, having two drunken popstars rolling around the floor of his flat at half four in the morning. They go on for a few minutes until Harry shouts, “Oi! Off me you wanker, it’s my _birthday_ I said!”

Niall lets Harry go and Harry stands up, tipping over on his feet before righting himself. Nick smiles and watches Harry as he walks over, trying his hardest to seem sober when it’s very clear he’s anything but. When he gets close enough Harry leans his face into Nick’s neck and kisses him, Nick’s hands curling around Harry’s waist and steadying him on his feet. 

“When is everyone going home?” Harry licks the skin just behind Nick’s ear and drags his teeth over the spot. 

“Soon,” Nick glances at the clock and decides that yes, this would definitely be a good time to start calling the car service and empty his flat of the hangers on. Harry’s getting more and more restless, rocking slowly into Nick’s hip, his fingers clutched tight in Nick’s jumper. The last thing Nick needs is Harry stripping off in the middle of his own birthday bash but that seems to be exactly where Harry’s heading. “I’ve got to call some cars.”

“So call them then,” Harry whines. He digs his teeth into Nick’s earlobe and Nick nearly drops his glass of champagne, the brat. “I want them out. Want you to fuck me so bad. It’s my—“

“Birthday, I know, love, I’ve got it.” Nick smiles at Harry fondly, scooping Harry’s fringe from his eyes and pushing it back before Harry gets the chance. Harry blinks at him, his eyes wide and green, pupils blown out and dark. “I’ll get them out and we’ll see how it goes, yeah?”

Harry rolls his eyes and looks so dizzy when he’s finished he seems about to fall over. Nick laughs. If Harry manages to even stay awake another ten minutes it’ll be a bloody miracle; he’s fairly sure any kind of sex is out of the question. Harry narrows his eyes and pokes Nick in the chest. 

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Nick blinks and tries to hide his smile. 

“Don’t humor me like that,” Harry pouts. “”M’gonna…’m’gonna make you fuck me like, really good. Hard. Really hard and good and, um,” Harry’s eyes go wide and he teeters back. “Crap, I’ve gotta wee.”

Nick bursts out laughing as Harry glares before shuffling down the hall to the loo. It doesn’t take long for Nick to get the cars set up and gather everyone to the door shoving them out into the cold early morning air with a pat on the head and their address pinned to their jackets. Aimee kisses Nick’s cheek loudly, smearing what’s left of her lipstick against his skin and Pixie shoves her tongue in Nick’s ear before stomping on his foot as she pulls the door closed behind her. 

Nick turns off the lights and decides to leave the mess of the party to deal with tomorrow. He cleans his teeth and strips out of his party clothes only to find Harry completely passed out in Nick’s bed, fully dressed minus the one shoe he somehow managed to wrangle off his foot. 

“What a rockstar,” Nick says quietly then goes about getting Harry out of the rest of his clothes and under the covers as gently as he can. Nick climbs in next to him and Harry immediately curls closer, his head pillowed against Nick’s chest, breath sticky and warm on Nick’s skin. 

*

Nick’s alarm goes off five minutes before Harry’s, and even in the midst of all the blaring whistles and beeps he’s thankful he thought to have the both of them set their alarms before the party started when they were thinking about it the night before. 

Nick manages to get his own turned off and is leaning out of the bed to fumble with Harry’ jeans, trying to dig the mobile out of the pocket when Harry’s snores change into the deep, aggravated snuffling he does when he needs to wake up and doesn’t want to. Nick finally finds the mobile and turns the alarm off, throwing the room into silence except for Harry’s low, pitiful moans. 

“Oh my goddddddd.”

Nick laughs quietly, ducking away from Harry’s swinging hand and the way he’s trying to kick Nick under the covers. “Rise and shine, Harold,” Nick rolls over to Harry and pushes the hair back from his face. Harry’s skin is pale, the skin under his eyes dark and bruised looking. “It’s time to get up and ready for rehearsals.”

“Noooooo,” Harry moans and flops around in the bed. “Don’t wanna.”

“Well that’s too bad,” Nick says firmly. “That’s the price you’ve got to pay for being a big famous popstar.”

Harry’s eyes are still closed but his lips turn down in a small frown. “But it was my birthday party.”

“I know, love,” Nick pats Harry’s thigh under the covers. “Now come on, get up and I’ll make you some breakfast.”

Harry wrinkles his nose and blinks his eyes open before shutting them quickly and rolling so his back is to Nick. “That’s not actually an incentive to get me up, Grimmy.”

“Fine,” Nick huffs. “Get up and get in the shower and I will go someplace and _buy_ you breakfast before your car gets here.”

Harry lies perfectly still for a second. “Bacon sandwiches?”

“As many as you want,” Nick says gently.

Harry’s quiet for another second before letting out a long and drawn out sigh. “Fine. I’ll get up.”

Nick pats Harry’s hip and then ruffles his hair around a bit. “Good lad,” Nick says and gets out of bed, reaching his arms up into a stretch and cracking his back. He loves parties, he does, but the past two nights have almost killed him. Part of Nick feels bad that Harry has rehearsals all day but the other part is happy he’ll have time to take a nap before he goes out with Finchy in the afternoon.

“Don’t forget we’ve got my mum’s tonight too,” Harry says. He’s sat up now on the edge of the bed, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. He’s yawning and moaning and is still somehow so beautiful Nick’s chest aches. Sometimes he feels like he loves Harry so much he can’t breathe. 

“Right,” Nick looks away and grabs a t-shirt and pair of jogging bottoms to start to get dressed before he does something ridiculous like declare his everlasting devotion to a hungover popstar in his bedroom on a Saturday morning. “Because for some reason we’re still celebrating your birthday tonight.”

“Yep,” Harry grins a little wickedly, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “And I can’t wait to tell my mum what you got me for a present this year.”

*

“Nicholas Grimshaw,” Anne pulls open the front door and crosses her arms over her chest, foot tapping quietly against the floor. Harry giggles at Nick’s side; he’s still sleepy from the nap he took on the way up but apparently watching his mum scold Nick in the doorway of her house is doing wonders to wake him up. 

“Um, hello, Anne,” Nick says smoothly. He curls his fingers into Harry’s jacket and walks them both inside, dropping their bags on the floor as soon as they’re out of the doorway. 

Anne is still staring at him – that flat terrifying stare all mums seem to know how to do – and for the first time since he booked her Nick wonders if getting a stripper for his nineteen year old boyfriend was the best idea. He might have at least found out the rest of their plans for the weekend before he did it because if he’d known he’d be seeing Anne less than twenty four hours after the fact he might have resisted the temptation, as amazing of a surprise as it turned out to be.

“Hi, mum,” Harry steps forward and grabs his mother in a hug, kissing her cheek and beaming. “It’s my birthday!”

“I know, Harry,” she says dryly. “I _was_ there.” She looks at Nick for a second longer with her eyes piercing and narrow, before her shaking her head and breaking out into a wide grin. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I can’t do it anymore!” she claps her hands together and reaches out to gather Nick into a tight hug. 

“Oi, you couldn’t even manage it until they got their _jackets_ off?” Gemma comes out from the kitchen wiping her hands on a tea towel and shaking her head. “God, mum, you’re the worst. Can’t even manage a stern mum routine when your baby’s boyfriend hired him a bloody stripper for his birthday.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I know I should be mad,” Anne pulls back and points at Nick’s chest, “because I _should_ be. A stripper, Nick? _Really_?”

“I know, I know,” Nick holds his hands in the air and glances between Anne and Gemma. Harry is no help; he’s curled into himself laughing in hysterics, the ungrateful brat. “I just – I thought it would be funny?”

“That’s the worst part!” Anne crows. “I’ve been trying to be cross all day about it but his face! Harry, your _face_! You looked terrified!”

“Well I was!” Harry exclaims and it sends his mum off into another fit of giggles, Gemma finally joining in. “He told me to wait for a bloody cake and the next thing I know there’s this police woman and Niall is flipping out thinking we’re all getting arrested and then, I don’t know, the music started and I didn’t see my cake coming and I just—“

“Oh my god, Haz, you were just sitting there waiting for the _cake_ the whole time?” Gemma screeches. Harry frowns at her and that just makes her laugh harder. Harry pouts and bangs his head against Nick’s chest. 

“This is the worst,” Harry mumbles quietly. Nick runs a hand over his head and down his back. He’d feel bad for Harry but he’s so glad Anne isn’t cross with him Nick just feels relieved. Next year he’ll have to play it safe and get Harry a watch or something. 

“Oh, you think this is bad wait ‘til Robin hears,” Gemma giggles, then murmurs under her breath, “he was still sitting there waiting for the bloody cake. Ha!”

“Maybe we should go home,” Harry blinks up at Nick, ignoring the way his mum is fussing around them, dragging their bags into the living room and taking Harry’s coat from him. “Gemma’s mean; I want to go home.”

“Nah, I think it’ll be fun,” Nick says and squeezes Harry’s hand. 

*

Nick and Harry fall asleep on the sofa after dinner, Nick sprawled out and Harry snoring quietly against his chest. When Nick wakes up it’s to Gemma shaking his foot and smiling down at him apologetically. 

“Sorry, my mum wants to do the cake before it gets too late. Do you think you can wake him?”

“Yeah, I’ll get him up,” Nick stretches his arms up and yawns. “Thanks, Gem.”

Gemma grins at them fondly and leaves and Nick takes a few minutes just to be able to enjoy being with Harry all quiet and relaxed like this. The parties were great; Nick loves to go out and so does Harry and Nick loved being able to do that for him, be able to set up dinner and the birthday bash and get all of their friends to come and celebrate with Harry. 

But for as much as the people they’re close with know about them it’s still not a _known_ thing. Nick can think of a hundred times in the past two days when he’d have liked nothing more than to be able to take Harry’s hand or kiss him or just sit with him the way they do when there’s no one else around, arms and legs together in a tangled mess of limbs. 

They’re still not there yet. Not that Nick thinks they’ll never get there, but no matter what now’s not the time and that makes it even better when they get to do things like go to their mum’s houses and be together in front of people like there’s nothing wrong with it. Where they’re not the DJ from Radio 1 and the singer from One Direction, but are just Nick and Harry.

“Hey,” Nick whispers, pushing the hair from Harry’s forehead and kissing him softly. “Wake up, babe.”

Harry frowns, his eyebrows crunching up in sleep. “Nooooo. Why are you always waking me up? I thought you loved me?”

Nick laughs. “I do, love, but your mum wants to do the cake and as much as I like cuddling on the sofa we’re going to need to head to a real bed soon or I’ll be crippled by the morning.”

Harry huffs and rubs his eyes. He swings his legs to the floor and glances at Nick through the curtain of his fringe. “Time for cake, huh? Why should I believe you? The last time you told me it was time for cake I wound up with a half-naked girl in my lap.”

“Harry,” Nick drags his fingers through his hair and yawns. When Harry’s birthday celebrations are over Nick’s going to sleep for a week. “I can _promise_ you I’ve not arranged for a stripper to pop out in your mum’s kitchen.”

Harry laughs quietly. “Oh god, all right. I believe that.”

“Now come on,” Nick pats Harry’s leg and stands up, holding his hand out for Harry to grab on to. “Cake then bed. I’m too old for all this partying. Next time you need to find yourself a young boyfriend that can keep up with you better, yeah?”

“Next time,” Harry rolls his eyes and kisses Nick hard on the mouth. “Shut up, you twat. You know there’s no next time; you’re stuck with me. Hope you’re going to enjoy week long birthday celebrations and getting me a stripper every year until we’re wrinkly old men.”

Nick feels a stupid grin pull at the edges of his mouth and he has to look away when Harry starts to drag him off to the kitchen. “All right, Harold. I think I can manage that.”

*

Harry’s childhood bedroom has been converted into a guest room in the sense that it’s still all of his old furniture but the Lord of the Rings and Frankie Sandford posters have all been taken down from the walls. The first time Nick visited he’d pouted when he realized he was seeing a stripped down version of Harry when he was younger until Gemma found some pictures of him, awkward and gangly at twelve and thirteen and that more than made up for it. 

Harry’s still a bit awkward and gangly at nineteen, but those are the parts Nick loves most about him. His nervous ticks and the way he still seems surprised by the length of his legs and the wide span of his arms. How he’ll trip over his feet when doing nothing more complicated than walking into Nick’s living room, the toes of his trainers always scuffed from catching and dragging on the ground. 

Tonight is no better. Harry trips in his haste to get into his old bedroom, his fingers digging into Nick’s waist to steady himself. Nick laughs and drags Harry in after him and kicks the door closed with his foot. The first few times they stayed at Harry’s mum’s house Nick at least made an attempt to sleep on the sofa in the living room but Harry would always come get him an hour later, dragging him breathless and arguing back up to his old room. Anne’s never said anything so Nick figures she must be okay with it and they never actually do anything once they’re together, just curl up in Harry’s too small bed and sleep until the morning. 

Apparently, that’s not what Harry has in mind for tonight though. 

“God, I want you,” Harry’s panting and breathless already, his cheeks flushed with heat. “Been wanting you to fuck me since last night.” And _Jesus_. That’s not – they can’t –

“ _Harry_ ,” Nick scolds. Harry is skating his hands under Nick’s jumper, dragging his nails over Nick’s chest. He presses in deep and Nick feels his skin heat under Harry’s fingers, the blood rushing to the surface to meet every spot he marks. “Harry, we cant.”

“We _can_ ,” Harry lets Nick go and Nick thinks _thank god_ but then realizes it’s only so Harry can strip off, first his jumper and t-shirt, then the buckle and zip of his jeans. He shoves his jeans and pants down in one sharp push and kicks them off his feet leaving him in nothing but a pair of socks. He should look ridiculous – there’s no reason why anyone in the world should look so bloody good when hungover and sleepy and naked save for a pair of gym socks – but here Harry is, proving everything Nick’s ever known wrong once again.

“We’re in your mum’s house,” Nick reminds him. 

Harry shakes his head and yanks Nick’s shirts off. “Don’t care.”

“We can’t – Harry I can’t shag you down the hall from your mum and your sister.” Nick has no idea why none of this is sinking in. Harry is still working on Nick’s clothes, fumbling with his belt and dropping to his knees to open the button and push the jeans down Nick’s hips. “ _Harry_.”

“We’ve had sex in _your_ mum’s house,” Harry reminds him, and well, yes, but that wasn’t anywhere _near_ the same thing. 

“My mum can barely hear; that was different.”

“Right,” Harry beams as he gets Nick’s pants down and his fingers around Nick’s cock. Nick is losing this argument. It would just be better to admit it now and go with the flow because once Harry gets his mouth on Nick it’s going to all be over anyway. “That was different because it wasn’t my birthday but today _is_ \--“

“Your birthday was _yesterday_ , love—“

“And for my birthday I want you to fuck me in my old bed, so,” Harry raises his eyebrows and leans in to lick the head of Nick’s dick and that’s pretty much the end of Nick’s protests. Harry’s mouth is amazing. There is no argument Harry will ever lose if his method of debate is sucking Nick off. 

Nick sighs up at the ceiling. “You know, one day – I have no idea when but hopefully it’s soon – but one day it _won’t_ be your birthday anymore and then what will you do?”

“I don’t know,” Harry beams. “Probably the same thing I do now.” 

And it’s official: Harry is the worst. Nick should be used to this by now. “Oh my god, all right. Up. Get up, you minx, and get in the bed. We’re at least going to do this right, yeah?”

Harry stands up so quickly Nick’s fairly sure he wasn’t actually getting the blowjob Harry was alluding to but that’s all right. Harry stops to yank off his socks and Nick does the same and by the time Nick looks back over Harry’s lying on his old bed in a sprawl of pale limbs and a mess of curls against the dark blue and green bedding. He’s got his feet propped on the bed and a bottle of lube and a condom out from god only knows where and he’s already slicking his fingers and trailing them around to his arse. 

Nick kneels on the bed and rests his hands on Harry’s knees, rubbing his thumbs over Harry’s warm skin. Harry’s cock is thick and hard, curving up to his belly and Nick can’t stop staring at Harry’s face, the way his cheeks are flushed and his teeth digging into his bottom lip. The muscles in his arm strain as he works his fingers into himself and Nick can’t help it, he leans over the kisses the gasp from Harry’s mouth as his fingers go deeper. 

“Let me,” Nick drizzles some lube over his fingers and bats Harry’s hand away, already finding him slick and hot, desperate for him. Harry’s eyes fly open when Nick presses the tip of his finger against the ring of muscle and then he bears down, forcing Nick inside. 

“Fuck, Nick, please. I can – do more. You can do more,” Harry babbles. Nick pulls his finger back then presses in with two sliding in slow and deep, not stopping until Harry’s breath shudders, his eyes blown wide and dark. 

Nick can never get enough of this. Of having Harry laid out in front of him, all of him just for Nick; for Nick to touch and kiss and bite and fuck. Nick goes deeper with his fingers, harder, and thinks about slicking his cock and driving it inside Harry as hard as he can. Harry’s rocking back, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on Nick’s forearms and shoulders, and he holds on and screws himself down, blinking wildly when Nick goes back with three, stretching him open, curling into him and stroking until Harry’s rocking his head back and forth, desperate for it.

“Fuck, all right, are you waiting for an invitation or something?” Harry mutters. He shoves the hair off his face with one hand then grabs the condom and shoves it at Nick. “My arse cordially invites your dick inside; now come on.”

“Maybe I’m waiting for you to bloody be quiet,” Nick mumbles. He pulls his hand back to deal with the condom and slick himself before lifting Harry’s legs and leaning back in.

“Yeah, well that’s not gonna- _oh_ ,” Harry finally shuts up when Nick presses against him and slides inside in one steady push. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t give Harry time to adjust, just goes until he bottoms out and Harry shakes around him, gasping wetly. “Oh _god_.”

Nick can never understand how Harry manages to talk when they’re like this. All Nick can think about is how Harry feels, how hot tight and hot he is inside, the clench of his body around Nick as Nick fucks into him, every thrust deeper and harder than the last. Nick’s trying to be quiet this time at least so he doesn’t wake up the house with the headboard banging against the wall but it’s hard with Harry looking up at him like that, his eyes wide and mouth shocked open and the way he clings to Nick, grabs onto him and drags him down so their mouths rub against each other, spit slicked lips smearing in a kiss. 

It’s so good – it’s always so bloody good – and Nick needs Harry to come so he can give up pretending to be in control of this. He reaches between them and takes Harry’s dick in his hand, squeezes him tight and hard, rough like Harry likes and Harry gasps, his back arching up off the bed, fingernails digging crescent moons into Nick’s arms. 

“Nick - _fuck_ ,” Harry groans and comes, his body going tight like a bow, everything about him freezing as he spills wet and hot between them. Nick pulls his hand back and wipes it on the sheet and Harry’s arms drop from Nick to lie limply at his sides. “Keep going,” Harry rasps out. His breath is still coming short, his skin damp and pink. He licks his lips and reaches up to push Nick’s hair back and Nick turns his head so he can kiss the palm of Harry’s hand. “Come on, Nick, do it harder, I can – I want it. Want you to just—“

“Harry, you’ve got to—“ _shut up_ Nick is desperate to finish with because he can’t actually keep listening to Harry and keep his control about anything anymore. Harry gives him everything - there’s nothing Nick would ever want that Harry wouldn’t just hand him willingly - and every time Nick thinks about it he realizes he loves Harry even more. 

Nick curls his fingers into Harry’s knees and pushes his legs back and keeps going, fucking into him harder and harder, reckless and sharp and off rhythm until he comes, his orgasm ripping through him blindingly quick.

It takes a minute for Nick to be able to breathe right and then he drops down on top of Harry, slipping out and dealing with the condom before collapsing back onto the bed. Harry threads his fingers in Nick’s hair and scratches the back of his head. It feels so nice Nick reminds himself that they actually need to get cleaned up and at least put pants on before they fall asleep for the night. Anne loves him and she let the stripper thing slide but Nick is fairly certain that walking in on he and Harry naked in the morning would change her opinion right quick.

“Here,” Nick rustles around until he finds both of their pants then passes Harry’s to him. Harry grins and slips them on then fusses with the sheets and duvet until they’re both curled under the covers. He tucks his head in against Nick’s chest.

“I really did have a great weekend, you know,” Harry says quietly. “Thank you.”

Nick kisses the top of his head and wraps his arm around Harry’s back. 

“I’m glad,” Nick already feels like he’s about to drop off, his body heavy with sleep. He’s tired and warm, all wrapped up in Harry, and it makes him brave, silences the part of his brain that usually keeps him from saying all the things he feels. “Many more to come, yeah?”

Nick knows it’s not anything he would probably say if he were wide awake and thinking about it, but he’s glad he did, now, because instead of answering all Harry does is smile. Nick can feel it in the curve against his skin.

*

Nick wakes in the morning to the sun shining brightly through the small bedroom window. He can hear people moving about in the kitchen, the bang of pans and the smell of coffee filtering through the air. They can’t stay long in the morning because Nick has plans late in the day and Harry has to do things with the lads, but for now this is good. It’s nice. 

“Morning,” Harry’s voice is soft and slow. He still sounds half asleep. Nick pushes him onto his back and kisses his shoulder. 

“Morning to you,” Nick says. 

“You should get me some coffee, I think,” Harry’s eyes are closed but he’s smiling, his lips tipped up and the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

“Oh really,” Nick drones. “And why is that?” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the ceiling because the worst part is no matter what the reason Nick probably will get the coffee and Harry will be smug about it. It’s just a matter of time, really.

“Because it’s my—“

“Harry Styles,” Nick cuts him off. “If you say birthday one more time I’m going to lose my mind. It’s not your birthday anymore! It’s _Sunday_! Many days _past_ your birthday!”

“What I was _going_ to say,” Harry rolls over and props himself up on one elbow so he’s looming over Nick, his hair hanging low and ticking Nick’s forehead and cheek. “Is that it’s my birthday _weekend_.”

“Birthday weekend,” Nick repeats.

“Mm hmm.”

Nick huffs playfully. “All right, I’ll play along; it’s your birthday weekend. Got it.” Harry’s smiling – a full blown wide grin – and Nick points a finger at his chest. “But just you wait. August isn’t all that far off and when my birthday rolls around I’m going to make you pay and pay and pay…”

“Oh, I’m looking forward to it,” Harry says, and grins, and sets his teeth against Nick’s jaw.

 

-end-


End file.
